Caitlyn’s blood was humming. She felt excitement stir. She’d had a rotten weekend, a lousy day. And didn’t she deserve to have a little fun? This might be just the ticket. Nodding, she said, “It’s a great idea. When do we go?”
Janine looked at the two of them and laughed. “Two weeks. Enough time to get someone to cover for us at work and not so long that we’ll convince ourselves not to go.”
“She’s right, Caitlyn. If we don’t do it now,” Debbie cautioned, “we’ll talk ourselves out of it.”
“Good point,” Caitlyn said, knowing that she at least would second-guess the whole “fun” principle until she had convinced herself to save the money and go to work like a good girl. “Okay, then, two weeks. If we can get reservations.”
“Uh, hello? Reservations where?” Debbie asked.
The voices in the bar blurred into a soft background noise, mixed with a slow song drifting from the old jukebox in a corner. Outside, a cold ocean wind rattled against the glass, but inside, Janine’s eyes were flashing as she leaned across the table and whispered, “Fantasies.”
“Whoa.” Debbie slouched back in her chair.
“Really?” Caitlyn grabbed her drink and began to consider the possibilities, hardly listening as Janine kept talking. Fantasies was one of the most exclusive, indulgent resort islands in the world. Everything Caitlyn had read about the place suggested wild nights and glorious days filled with romance and pampering.
Just what the three of them needed.
“We’ll never be able to get reservations there,” Debbie protested.
“Already have ‘em,” Janine said with a wink. “I called yesterday and put a deposit down on three rooms. They’d had a few cancellations, so we got lucky. I think it’s fate’s way of telling us this is our time. We need to do it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve already got the rooms.”
“Well,” Janine said, “I figured if I couldn’t talk you guys into it, I could always cancel the reservations.”
A bubble of excitement rose inside Caitlyn and she reached for it greedily. Fantasies. She’d read so much about the place in magazines and celebrity gossip columns, how could she refuse to go in person with her two closest friends? Slapping one hand on the center of the table, she said, “I’m in.”
“Well, we already know I’m in, since it was my idea.” Janine covered Caitlyn’s hand with her own and then both of them turned to look at Debbie.
“This is crazy—you guys know that, right? I mean, we’re just taking off and blowing a ton of money on a few weeks at a resort on a total whim.” Debbie chewed at her bottom lip, looking from one friend to the other and back again.
“What’s your point?” Janine asked.
“Don’t have one,” Debbie said, and laid her hand on top of her friends’. “I was just saying. Anyway, I’m in, too.”
“This is gonna be great,” Caitlyn said, and leaned back in her chair. “I so need this. We all need to get away for a while.”
“Some of us more than others,” Debbie muttered, and nodded in the direction of the door.
“What’s he doing here?” Janine whispered.
Curious, Caitlyn turned in her seat and felt her stomach drop to her toes. Jefferson Lyon walked into the bar as if he owned the place. He stood like a well-dressed statue, his sharp blue eyes scraping the crowd until he found her. Then his gaze narrowed and he headed toward her like a man on a mission.
“Wow,” Debbie whispered. “I never would have guessed he’d come to a place like this.”
“Yeah,” Janine said, “definitely not his style.”
Caitlyn had to agree. In a crowd of blue jeans and board shorts, his Armani suit stood out like a flashing neon light. Of course, Jefferson Lyon stood out in any crowd. He just had that kind of aura. All powerful and sexy and—
Cut that thought off at the pass, she told herself firmly as she stood up to meet him. Just as she told herself that the quick spurt of something hot and heavy moving through her bloodstream was simple surprise at seeing him here.
Heck, she hadn’t even known he’d been aware of On The Pier’s existence.
Her gaze locked on him, but she was also aware of how every female in the room watched him move with open admiration. And how could she blame them? He had a way of walking that suggested both power and languor. He moved like a man who knew how to take charge, but liked to take his time about it. Which, of course, only made a woman wonder what that kind of mixture would be like in bed.
Oh, boy.
“Caitlyn,” he said when he was close enough to be heard over the muttering crowd.
“Jefferson, what are you doing here?” Her voice came out a little sharper than she’d planned.
One eyebrow lifted. “I needed to see you about something that couldn’t wait, obviously.”
“How’d you know where I’d be?”
“It’s Monday night. You’re always here.”
That little nugget of information staggered her. He hadn’t known her fiancé’s name, but he knew she came to this tiny bar every Monday night? “I know I am. How did you know I am?”
He shrugged, glanced at her friends, then looked back into her eyes. “You must have mentioned it.”
And he’d remembered?
Shaking her head, Caitlyn told herself it didn’t matter how he’d found her. “So what did you want, Jefferson?”
He looked down at her friends, watching them with avid interest. Nodding, he then dismissed them entirely and shifted a look around the bar, as if unsatisfied to find himself surrounded by so many people. Taking her upper arm in a firm grip, he half steered her, half dragged her, back to the entryway, where things were a little less crowded.
Caitlyn tried not to think about the tiny spears of heat the touch of his hand sent zipping through her system. She’d clearly had one too many martinis. Once free of the main room, she pulled out of his grasp, crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her head to one side, looking up at him. “What was so important it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”
Jefferson stared down at her and realized just how different Caitlyn looked when away from the office. He was so used to her tidy, professional appearance, seeing her with her hair down and loose around her shoulders was more distracting than he would have expected. She wore faded, worn blue jeans that clung to her body like a second skin, a scoop-necked pale blue T-shirt that showed just a hint of cleavage and sandals that displayed long, elegant toes painted fire-engine red.
Even over the combined scents filling the air he could smell her perfume, something light and flowery that she never wore in the office. This was why he preferred business relationships to be kept strictly business. He didn’t want to know that Caitlyn liked red nail polish. Or that she smelled like a damn garden. Or that she had a lush figure hidden beneath the boring business suits she wore to work.
Frowning to himself, he pushed away his wandering thoughts. He hadn’t come to be sociable, after all.
“My father called tonight. He needs me in Seattle tomorrow afternoon. So I’ll need you in the office early to take care of a few things before I leave.”
Instantly, her eyes widened. “Is your father all right?”
“He’s fine,” Jefferson said, somehow pleased that she had cared enough to ask. His father had officially